


Revengeance

by nightdragonstudios



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-26
Updated: 2015-06-26
Packaged: 2018-04-06 04:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4208595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightdragonstudios/pseuds/nightdragonstudios
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>William's new life with the Revengeancers takes a turn for the worst.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Revengeance

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Tumblrklok roleplay. NSFW.
> 
> If you want to see more of the story, see the "Transcriptklok" bookmark on my page for links to the other roleplay logs associated with the game.

"Fuck me," Charisse said breathily as she gyrated on top of him, "Fuck me with that big dick."

William never got tired of seeing her naked - her perfect pierced tits, the contrast of her smooth white skin against her tattoos, that plume of voluminous black hair with its red highlights.

"As you command, my lady," he said, though she was doing most of the work. She liked to be on top and she liked to get her way, which was fine with him for the most part. After all, he couldn't remember a time when a woman had really wanted him like this. Sure, he'd fucked plenty of women after concerts, but usually only because the other guys had already been taken. He was usually the last choice, not the first, and he never got any calls back the next day anyway.

All he'd ever wanted was a girlfriend, one who genuinely cared about him. And here she was, his perfect woman, manifest in the flesh, riding his dick. He couldn't believe his luck.

"Fuck me, William. Fuck me," Charisse cried, her moans becoming more urgent. She reached down to pleasure herself as she continued to impale herself upon him, accelerating her rhythm.

"I'm going as fast as I can!"

When her moans had reached a climax, she slowed down and exhaled a long sigh. Then she dismounted him and moved to the edge of the bed, reaching for a nearby towel.

"Thanks for the orgasm," she said. "You were great."

He loved how he had finally gotten some recognition that his dick was, in fact, capable of pleasing a woman. The rumors be damned!

"Thanks, babe," he said, and then furrowed his brow. "Where're you going?"

"Shower."

"Aw, come on babe, why? We've got all night."

She looked at him for a moment with her intense red-brown eyes, her irises so dark that they almost appeared to be black in the dim light. "There's an important show tonight," she said.

"Oh," he said. Nobody had told him. "But, um," he looked slightly flustered, not knowing what to do with himself. "Baby, I didn't..."

"Sorry honey, there's no time." Charisse rose to her feet and strode across the room to William's bathroom. She leaned seductively against the door frame. "Maybe you can finish yourself off for me?"

He blinked, hypnotized by the curves of her killer silhouette. "Oh, uh, yeah, I can do that. Of course I can!"

"Good. Make yourself come really hard for me." She shut the door. The sound of running water could be heard shortly after.

That was weird, he thought, but nevertheless peeled off the condom, reached for the lube, and got to work.

\---

William's new life was awesome. He had tons of friends, all the booze he could drink, and plenty of access to women (though now that he and Charisse were an item that was less of a reality, but he could live with that).

The "compound", as it was cryptically called, was a series of warehouses connected by catwalks and tunnels, and it was home to the most hardcore underground heavy metal scene he had ever seen. It was inhabited by the baddest of the bad. Outcasts and exiles. The kind of people that were just too much for society and its stupid rules. And the common thread among all of them was that they had all been hurt by Dethklok in some way.

They all had their stories. Some were ex-klokateers who had been fired or seriously wounded on the job. Others were struggling musicians who couldn't compete with Dethklok's record sales or had gone bankrupt after being sued for making unauthorized remixes or cover bands. Others still were religious outcasts who had been spurned by their congregations for listening to the devil's music - Dethklok.

One was even a brilliant computer programmer whose brother had been outright murdered by Dethklok's security team. Murdered! And covered up. The authorities must've been complicit, because Dethklok was never brought to trial no matter how hard he tried to press charges. He had also never received any compensation, out-of-court settlements, or even an acknowledgement of wrongdoing. Not even an apology. No justice.

William was truly shocked. He had no idea how damaging Dethklok's influence had been on the world until he had come down from his ivory tower and heard what the little people had to say.

Charisse's story was, perhaps, the most heartbreaking of all. She and her sister had been rabid Dethklok fans, having attended almost every one of their concerts. But at an overbooked concert in LA, an overloaded amp caused an explosion which knocked loose a cluster of razor-sharp stage props, which fell upon the audience like a rain of daggers. Charisse was almost eviscerated from a nasty gash in her abdomen (and had the scar to prove it), while her sister's hands were sliced clean off. The resulting medical bills bankrupted the girls, and since they had forfeited their legal rights by signing dethwaivers, they had no legal avenue to sue Dethklok or get any compensation. Charisse had resorted to turning tricks to get the money they needed just so they wouldn't wind up homeless.

Charisse had gone ahead to the concert hall to prepare for the show. She was a singer. They had their own band! It was awesome. He was the bassist of the band, obviously, but he got to be in center stage. He was the star attraction - the crowd loved and worshipped HIM. It was all he could've ever dreamed of.

He sometimes worried that these people might hate him because he had previously been in Dethklok, but the opposite seemed to be true. They were all death metal fans after all, so even if they hated what Dethklok did, they were still fans of their music - and they seemed to appreciate that William had left his life behind to live with them.

The banner behind the stage spelled out "REVENGEANCE", whatever that meant, so he guessed that was the name of their band. But it wasn't a band that would ever play at venues or be heard on the radio. No, the compound - and the music created within - was exclusive to its own crowd. Invite only. Had to be! Activities that normal people would consider "illegal" went on there every day. Drug dealers practically lined the walls of the concert hall most nights, offering any brand of pleasure you could want. There were some prostitutes, too. Nice girls. He'd been told there was a BDSM room somewhere, though he hadn't had the courage to partake in that just yet. He could hear screams coming from somewhere at times, which he assumed came from people getting freaky in there. To each their own, as far as he was concerned - he wasn't gonna judge.

He'd received plenty of emails from people pleading with him to resume his work on Planet Piss, but he decided "fuck that"! Sure, if he did go through with it, it would be metal done his way - and done right - but he realized that it would just lead to the same trappings of money, fame and mainstream commercialism that had left him unhappy with Dethklok. And if he had learned one thing from his time with Dethklok, it was that money and fame didn't make him happy.

No, there was only one thing he had ever wanted, and that was respect. And perhaps (dare he say it?) love. Here, he had found both.

Not only that, but he was living a hardcore heavy metal lifestyle day in, and day out! Every single day was filled with partying, drinking, smoking dope, fucking or playing bass. What else could a man need? No more boring meetings, no more press conferences, no more producers breathing down his neck. No more robot Charles controlling his life and legal decisions. Here he was his own man, leading his own destiny. Even if the world never saw it, it didn't matter to him. He was on the cutting edge. The compound was a gem in the rough, a death metal bohemia. His old friends didn't know what they were missing.

He finished a quick shower walked from the "apartment" - their word for the warehouse that contained their living spaces - past the pool hall, the arcade, the skate park, the strip club, the tattoo parlor, the workshop, past the heavy door that contained the armory, and finally to the concert hall - The largest and most important of the compound's modules.

The sound system was belting out some nice tracks from Electric Wizard. He guessed the show hadn't started quite yet. He was about to head up to the stage when one of his friends, José, flagged him down. José was a skater kid, a brilliant graffiti artist whose parents had been killed at a Dethklok concert when he was just sixteen. Now twenty two, he had found a new home at the compound after hearing about it from a friend of a friend and never looked back. He skidded to a halt in front of William, picked his skateboard off the cement and led him to one of the leather booths that lined the walls.

Charisse was there, along with M, who was probably the most badass person William had ever known. He wore a mask made of metal for fuck's sake - all the time - and it seemed to actually be attached to his face! How metal was that!? The body mod community here was a bit wild. Forked tongues and full face tattoos, things like that. Again, to each their own. He wasn't gonna judge.

That computer programmer guy was there too. Edgar, his name was. William had never properly got his last name. It sounded like "John Froo" or something, which was maybe his middle and last name. Seemed like an odd way to introduce oneself, but whatever. He parked next to the booth in his wheelchair, his netbook set up on a tray in front of him.

William sat down. "What's up?" he asked. He glanced around the table. They all seemed to be looking at him for some reason. "We playin', or what?"

"Nah man, let's get fucked up first," José said.

William grinned. "Now you're talkin'."

Charisse's pale, slender fingers pushed a cocktail across the table towards him. "Try this," she tempted.

The drink was a dull, opaque orange. He sipped at it. Man, it was strong. Tasty, though. Hints of cinnamon. "The fuck is this?" he asked.

"A ZOMBIE," M roared, his voice a muddy growl.

William continue to sip. "It's nice. Fruity."

One of the bar girls came over with some more drinks for the entire table. Beers, and a bottle of jack for M. The guy drank that shit straight. Fucking lunatic. He was so hardcore!

They drank. William soon felt the force of the zombie hitting him like a hammer. He tried to cuddle up to Charisse, but she kept brushing him off. She was being cold tonight, and he wasn't sure why. Her time of the month must've been coming up, he reasoned. That was women for ya.

Another round of drinks appeared. Another zombie had been mixed up for William. He narrowed his eyes and accepted it with a grin. He saw what they were up to. They were going to see if he could still play when he was this fucked up! Well, challenge accepted.

"We wanna hear some more of your stories," José said, and flashed him a grin.

William smiled dopily. He had a million stories about his time with Dethklok. Not all of them were happy, but they were interesting and he liked telling them. He enjoyed the attention. "Sure man, whaddya wanna know?"

"Tell us the story of how you escaped from Mordhaus again," José said.

"Hah!" That was a good one. "All right. Well, Dethklok was being a bunch of dicks a while back, so I decided to show 'em that I could just disappear at any time. Y'know. Stick it to 'em. So I went down to the lower levels..."

"And found a storm drain that wasn't used anymore," Charisse recited. She'd heard this story already.

"Yeah," William continued, "And it was big! Big and as tall as a man," he explained, gesturing with his hands. "Easy and comfortable to walk down. Didn't even have to bend over or nothin'. And it went all the way to the Missouri river!" He laughed a wheezing laugh. "Bypassed all of their security. They have the best security money can buy and I walked right past ALL of it! Ha ha!" He downed the last of his drink. "Then I found the highway, hitched a ride and played cat n' mouse with them for nearly a week!" He laughed again. "Fuckers had helicopters and trackers combing the entire state looking for me."

"But how did you get past the security codes?" Edgar John Froo asked.

"Security codes?" William scratched his head. He was having a hard time remembering.

"Yes," Edgar prompted. "You said you left in the dead of night. At night Mordhaus is locked down, internally and externally, with security codes."

"Oh yeah!" He began to laugh again, and slapped the table. "This is one of the best parts. If you didn't think Mordhaus' security was shit before, wait'll I tell you this." He leaned forward, lowering his voice. "See, Toki isn't very good with numbers. And we kept havin' problems with him getting locked out of places at night. So they simplified all the codes, and I'm being serious here - They're all one two three four five! ALL of them!" He howled with laughter. "And the ones that aren't, are five four three two one! I shit you not!"

"Thank you," Edgar said, tapping away at his netbook.

William looked around the table. He realized that José had disappeared. "Hey, where's José? Tell that kid to get me another one of them zombies."

"THE LIMIT IS TWO PER CUSTOMER," M growled.

There was a sound like cracking wood, and everything went black.

\---

William awoke sometime later and realized, dimly, that the sound he had heard was a skateboard rebounding off of bone and hair. He knew this even before he became conscious of the pain in the back of his skull, which was dull, throbbing, and constant. There was the taste of blood in his mouth and the unmistakable smell of piss.

It took him a while to roll over and get his bearings. He lurched onto his knees, doubled over and vomited almost immediately. The room was spinning. He looked up. A bright overhead light was the only source of illumination. The floor was hard concrete, and all around him were metal gratings, riveted together in the same style as M's metalworks. M was a sculptor, you see. A toolmaker, hobbyist. He liked to make things out of metal. Weird torture devices and weapons sometimes. Purely ornamental, he had assured William.

"GET UP," M's growly voice rumbled, from the darkness outside the cage.

"Fuck," William muttered. "What'd I say to piss Jose off?" He gazed beyond the metal grating. It was darker out there than it was inside the cage. He shuffled toward the edge, peering outward, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. "M, what the fuck is going on?" He could see the outline of M's towering shape in the darkness. He was dressed different. Bulkier. Looked like he was maybe wearing a kevlar vest. Web gear. Military shit.

"THE TIME OF RECKONING IS AT HAND," M declared.

"The time of reckoning?" William blinked groggily. He tried to laugh. "M, man, you're not makin' any sense. Maybe you hit that jack a little hard." He paused. "Joke's over, you can let me out of here now -"

"DETHKLOK WILL FALL. PIECE BY PIECE. MEMBER BY MEMBER." M moved closer to the grating, glowering at him. "FIRST, YOU. NEXT, TOKI WARTOOTH."

William's head was still swimming. "Wh-What do you mean -me-? And whaddya mean Toki? What the fuck are you talking about?"

"YOU ARE A FOOL. YOU WILL DIE LIKE THE REST OF DETHKLOK." He pushed a photograph against the grating; it was a picture of a klokateer with a gaping hole in his head. "YOU TOOK THE LIFE OF MY BROTHER. YOU WILL PAY."

William recognized the photograph immediately. His heart froze. "Th-That was your brother?"

M said nothing and growled, his face contorted in rage.

"I - I'm sorry, man! He kinda jumped at me! It was an accident!"

"LIAR." M pulled away from the metal, the photograph drifting to the floor. He turned away and returned to what he was doing. Assembling a rifle at a workbench, from the look of it.

William racked his brain, trying to figure a way out of this. "Dude... People get killed at Mordhaus all the time! It's... Normal..." He went silent. Maybe that wasn't helping.

Another shape moved. Shorter, slimmer, but also bulky with combat gear. A skateboard in his hand. It was José. "You've been very useful, man," he said. "Last time we attacked Mordhaus we got our butts kicked. This time, we got a fighting chance."

William gaped. "Th-That was you? You attacked Mordhaus?"

José snorted. "Man, you are thick."

The room continued to spin. William's stomach churned again. "Where's Charisse... What've you done with Charisse?"

M and José seemed to chuckle at this. Lifting his head again, William saw that there was a third shape in that darkness, sitting in a chair, legs crossed. Lithe, narrowed shouldered. There was a glint of reflection from metal - a knife twirling in a gloved hand. He recognized it; it was Charisse's knife, and the figure was Charisse. He couldn't believe his eyes.

"Charisse... Get me out of here," he pleaded.

Charisse said nothing. Continued to twirl the knife.

M finished assmebling his rifle and slapped in a magazine. He turned to the cage and glowered at William again. "SHE NEVER LOVED YOU. SHE IS ONE OF US. OUR PURPOSE IS TO DESTROY DETHKLOK. TO DESTROY -" He thrust his rifle against the grating, causing the metal to rattle loudly. A bayonet poked through, stopping inches from William's chest. "YOU."

William whimpered. He backed away from the grating. The blade withdrew.

"SHE SEDUCED YOU TO LEARN YOUR SECRETS," M said. "WHICH YOU WERE ALL TOO WILLING TO DIVULGE."

"Yeah," José said, and turned to her. "And with the way he blabbermouthed, maybe you never needed to fuck him at all?"

"IT IS TIME," M bellowed, and left the room. José flashed a nasty grin at William before filing out after him. Charisse rose to her feet and sheathed her knife, moving to the door.

Tears welled in William's eyes. "How could you do this to me?" He said, his voice barely a whisper.

She paused at the doorway and looked back at him. "I liked your big dick, William," she said with a small sigh, "But that's about all I liked." She moved to the door and was gone, leaving him alone.

He looked about the cage for any sort of avenue of escape, but the only object inside the cage was a single empty paint pail. Outside the cage, however, he could see lots of things - dark shapes hung from the walls - Saws, hammers, pliers. Nestled into the corner was the tank of an acetylene torch, its nozzle and hose curled around it like a coiled snake. There was also a long, flat table with gears, cranks and shackles on either end. He dimly realized that this must've been that bondage room that he had been too chicken to ever step foot in. Maybe if he had taken a look in here he would've pieced together that those screams likely weren't from kinky sex after all.

Perhaps.

Hindsight was always 20/20.


End file.
